"I will tell Potter to make everything ready.
I suppose there's no chance of his being here in time
for dinner?"
Thorpe shook his head, and then lifted his brows
over some new perplexity. "I guess he'd want to eat
his meals out, anyway," he said, after some thought.
"I don't seem to remember much about him in that respect--
of course, everything was so different in camp out in
Mexico--but I daresay he wouldn't be much of an ornament
at the table. However, that'll be all right. He's as easy
to manage as a rabbit. If I told him to eat on the roof,
he'd do it without a murmur. You see it's this way,
Julia: he's a scientific man--a kind of geologist,
and mining expert and rubber expert--and chemical expert
and all sort of things. I suppose he must have gone
through college--very likely he'll turn out to have
better manners than I was giving him credit for.
I've only seen him in the rough, so to speak. We weren't
at all intimate then,--but we had dealings together,
and there are certain important reasons why I should keep
close in touch with him while he's here in London.
But I'll try and do that without letting you be bothered."
"What an idea!" cried Julia. "As if that wasn't what we
had the house for--to see the people you want to see."
Her uncle smiled rather ruefully, and looked in a rather
dubious way at his cigar.
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